Like A Charm, Like A Chant, Like A Prayer
by Nerva al'Thor
Summary: -One shot; COMPLETE- -KanameSeiren- They shared an intimacy nobody in their right minds would have thought they shared.


She can feel his gaze upon her, studying her every move. She almost purrs, knowing that he loved it terribly if she wore skinny pants, the skimpier, bold ones that could almost be considered as leggings – clinging to her thighs, calves and butt so fast that skin and clothing were almost one. Aside from those kinds of pants, he had always loved her in Chinese style clothing, especially _qi paos_, the notorious ones with long slits, as he liked to exploit those slits in every possible way.

Whoever said that he was not a flirt had it terribly wrong.

She turns her head, her bob of lavender hair dancing, and looks at him. He is seated behind his desk, dark, open-collared dress shirt open, and under what dim light the lamplights give she can see his skin still damp, still smelling of the green apple bath gel that he had always loved.

He is terribly sexy naked in the bathroom. Especially when he has her pinned against the wall, hips against hers in a furious, shameless grind.

She approaches and puts the stack of class hand-outs on his desk. He momentarily scowls at it, his crimson eyes narrowing. He was an outstanding president but that did not mean that he did not have his own lazy moments. He detested checking math handouts because he reasoned that for some reason, their classmates always scrawled their solutions in his unintelligible and undignified manner of writing. Whenever he sinks into this excuse she just pats his head and gives him an assuring kiss, and he is appeased. At least for that moment.

He says something, and she replies that he should not go lazy on her. He gives his pretty head a toss, and a faint pout appears on his lips. Strong hands find her slim, toned waist, and she is pulled upon his warm lap.

She is quick to take up the invitation and sits on him astride on the chair. She winds her legs around his waist and presses close, the kind of proximity that nobody in their right minds would have thought they shared. She buries her nose into his hair, and he smells of blood and roses and green apples, and she is quickly intoxicated.

His lips press against the skin of her neck, and she feels him sucking on her skin. Her eyelids flutter downwards as her voice gives life to his name in a hushed whisper, like a prayer. His hands wander and trail down her curves, and beneath her clothes she feels her skin tingle.

This is not the first time his touch sent her shivering.

Her hands curl into half-formed fists, and her nails rakes down his back. His fingers are cold, yet they have warmth, as they slowly work the buttons of her blouse undone. His lips are quick to cover the skin he has exposed, and she is once again vulnerable, helpless against the tide of his desire, and her own.

Beneath her, she feels him come alive.

A whisper of _Seiren,_ and her innermost reaches tighten, and she is almost ashamed of the way his voice tempts her.

Even though it is not the first, she cannot help but gasp as he enters her. She clenches almost immediately, loving the way he fit inside her very depths, loving the one truth that she held him in her most intimate embrace, where nobody could go. She takes him into her farthest end as she rides him hard, grinding furiously, furiously, furiously, and his lips melt into a moan that drives her onward, recklessly, shamelessly, deliriously onward.

Miraculously, the chair endures.

He revels in the spill of her warmth, impossibly hard within her. She cries out as his fangs sink into her neck, and she feels him draw her blood, with such skill that no drop is spilled. He penetrates her all over again.

She clenches impossibly around him, tightening her secret depths furiously. She feels him respond with a thrust, and his lips let out the surprised little gasp, and he spills deep inside, a liquid heat that floods her with pleasure up to the very roots of her hair and the very tips of her fingers.

She licks the drop of blood from his lower lip, and he whispers her name again.

Like a charm, like a chant, like a prayer.

_Seiren, Seiren, Seiren…_

Slowly, slowly, his gaze softens. A finger brushes against her cheek, and she leans close to his touch. His lips curl into a smile that nobody ever sees, and she knows in her heart that she will follow this man to the ends of earth and time.


End file.
